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2 Play. So please your lordship to accept our duty.
Lord. With all my heart.-This fellow I remember,
1 Play. I think 'twas Soto that your honour means.
Lord. 'Tis very true ;-thou didst it excellent.-
i Play. Fear not, my lord; we can contain ourselves, Were he the veriest antick in the world.
Lord. Go, sirrah, take them to the buttery, And give them friendly welcome every one: Let them want nothing that my house affords.
ČExeunt SERVANT and PLAYERS, Sirrah, go you to Bartholomew my page,
a SERVANT. And see him dress'd in all suits like a lady: . That done, conduct him to the drunkard's chamber, And call him-madam, do him obeisance,Tell him from me (as he will win my love), He bear himself with honourable action, Such as he hath observed in noble ladies Unto their lords, by them accomplished: Such duty to the drunkard let him do, With soft low tongue, and lowly courtesy; And say,–What is't your honour will command, Wherein your lady, and your humble wife, May show her duty, and make known her love ? And then-with kind embracements, tempting kisses, And with declining head into his bosom, Bid him shed tears, as being overjoy'd To see her noble lord restored to health, Who, for twice seven years, hath esteemed him No better than a poor and loathsome beggar: And if the boy have not a woman's gift, To rain a shower of commanded tears, An onion will do well for such a shift; Which in a napkin being close convey'd, Shall in despite enforce a watery eye. See this despatch'd with all the haste thou canst; Anon I'll give thee more instructions. - Exit SERVANT, I know the boy will well usurp the grace, Voice, gait, and action of a gentlewoman: I long to hear him call the drunkard, husband :
And how my men will stay themselves from laughter,
SCENE II.-A Bedchamber in the LORD'S House.
with apparel, others with basin, ewer, and other appurtenances. Enter LORD, dressed like a Servant. Sly. For God's sake a pot of small ale. i Serv. Will't please your lordship drink a cup of sack ? 2 Serv. Will’t please your honour taste of these conserves ? 3 Serv. What raiment will your honour wear to-day?
Sly. I am Christopher Sly; call not me-honour, nor lordship. I never drank sack in my life; and if you give me any conserves, give me conserves of beef: Ne'er ask me what raiment I'll wear; for I have no more doublets than backs, no more stockings than legs, nor no more shoes than feet; nay, sometimes more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the over-leather.
Lord. Heaven cease this idle humour in your honour!
Sly. What,' would you make me mad ? Am not I Christopher Sly, oid Sly's son of Barton-heath ; by birth a pedlar, by education a card-maker, by transmutation a bear-herd, and now by present profession a tinker? Ask Marian Hacket, the fat alewife of Woncot, if she know me not: if she say I am not fourteen pence on the score for sheer ale, score me up for the lyingest knave in Christendom. What, I am not bestraught:† Here's
1 Serv. O, this it is that makes your lady mourn.
Lord. Hence comes it that your kindred shun your house,
† Distraught distracted.
Dost thou love hawking? thou hast hawks will soar
1 Serv. Say, thou wilt course; thy greyhounds are as swift As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe.
2 Serv. Dost thou love pictures ? we will fetch thee straight.
Lord. We'll show thee Io, as she was a maid;
3 Serv. "Or Daphne, roaming through a thorny wood;
Lord. Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord :
1 Serv. And, till the tears that she hath shed for thee,
sly. Am I a lord ? and have I such a lady ?
[SERVANTS present an ewer, basin, and napkin.
Sly. These fifteen years, by my fay,* a goodly nap.
1 Serv. O, yes, my lord; but very idle words :-
Sly. Ay, the woman's maid of the house.
3 Serv. Why, Sir, you know no house, nor no such maid; Nor no such men as you have reckon'd on
As Stephen Sly, and old John Naps of Greece,
Sly. Now, Lord be thanked for my good amends!
Enter the Page, as a Lady, with Attendants.
Sly. Marry, I fare well; for here is cheer enough. Where is my wife?
Page. Here, noble lord; What is thy will with her ?
Sly. Are you my wife, and will not call me-husband ? My men should call me-lord; I am your goodman.
Page. My husband and my lord, my lord and husband;
Sly. I know it well :- What must I call her?
Sly. Madam wife, they say that I have dream'd, and slept
Page. Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me; Being all this time abandon’d from your bed.
Sly. 'Tis much; Servants, leave me and her alone.
Page. Thrice noble lord, let me entreat of you
Sly. Ay, it stands so, that I may hardly tarry so long. But I would be loath to fall into my dreams again; I will therefore tarry, in despite of the flesh and the blood.
Enter a SERVANT.
Sly. Marry, I will; let them play it: Is not a commonty* a Christmas gambol, or a tumbling trick ?
Paye. No, my good lord; it is more pleasing stuff.
Sly. What, household stuff?
Sly. Well, we'll see't: Come, madam wife, sit by my side, and let the world slip; we shall ne'er be younger. [They sit down.
Enter LUCENTIO and TRANIO.
Tra. Mi perdonatet gentle master mine.
+ Pardon me.
# Harsh rules.